


One Act of Mercy

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Epilogue: Xenoblade Chronicles Future Connected, F/F, Post-Canon, Shulk/Fiora mentioned in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24892222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Weddings are supposed to be joyful events, are they not? Must they all continue to grieve?
Relationships: Melia Antiqua/Tyrea
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	One Act of Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> i originally wrote this because i got way too attached to a bunch of the High Entia NPCs than would be considered reasonable (lesunia!!!!!!!!!) but also melia/tyrea are so sad i had to do something about that

Rozeal weeps during the reception.

Strangely enough, nobody seems to mind. The celebration is for her wedding to Scarlen as much as it’s a moment of prayer for all the Telethia that still circle the capital. Scarlen is teary-eyed as well; he hiccups during his speech to the guests, but manages to hold himself together as he raises a glass in toast.

To Ricoth. To Galvin. To many, many others. And to a happy future with Rozeal. And to Empress Melia, for graciously providing the Great Hall of the palace as a wedding venue.

Somehow, the mood is caught somewhere between somber grief and exhilarating joy. Melia had been offered the highest seat of honor right beside Rozeal, but she remains firmly along the edge of the crowd. High Entia weddings used to be so ostentatious. She’d never been to one herself before today, but Kallian once told her how _bored_ he was when he’d been obligated to attend some councilor’s wedding ceremony. That was back then, however, and here— Homs and Machina and Nopon mingle among the High Entia. Their presence keeps everyone’s spirits lifted, a reminder that they’re no longer alone.

There, look. Some Nopon are urging others around them to join in a silly dance. A couple of Machina are playing music on stringed instruments that somewhat resemble the harps of High Entia, but with a deeper, resonating noise that’s neither mournful nor unpleasant.

Tyrea appears at her side, silently offering a flute of champagne.

“Will you be joining the festivities?” Melia asks, accepting the champagne out of politeness. The taste doesn’t agree with her, she already tried a sip during Scarlen’s toast.

“Do you take me to be the type of person to prance about with _Nopon.”_

Melia gently laughs. “I had to ask.”

Rozeal, her makeup running from her tears, is now grinning and clumsily waltzing with Scarlen, the two of them off beat from the Machinas’ song. They nuzzle each other, and something about the intimate gesture draws a tight feeling within Melia’s chest.

Not too far away, Fiora is dragging Shulk by the hand to dance with the Nopon. It’s not that, though. Not that. They’re having a good time and Melia is _happy_ to see them enjoying themselves.

Instead, Melia’s eyes dart back to Rozeal and Scarlen.

“Sharla has a rather surprising penchant for gossip.” Tyrea, always keen in her observations, had undoubtedly noticed who Melia had been watching. “She told me all about your… feelings, for that Homs boy.”

The tight feeling becomes a stone that drops to the bottom of her stomach, though not painfully. Melia tries not to groan, because that would be undignified, but she does clear her throat and makes a mental note to go confront Sharla about it later.

“Did she, now?”

“That’s right. I don’t even remember why she brought it up in the first place. I don’t particularly _dislike_ talking to that one.” Tyrea’s mouth twitches into a half-smile. Melia wonders if she should regret encouraging Tyrea to socialize with other people. “Would you honor me with the privilege of hearing your side of the story, Melia? What better place for such a topic than a wedding, right?”

“I don’t think I rather enjoy your sense of humor, Tyrea.”

“That’s too bad.”

But, it’s been well over a year now, and Melia had outgrown the embarrassment of that brief time of her life. Or so she’d insist. She takes a sip of the champagne and grimaces. With anyone else, like Riki or Dunban or even Sharla, she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of speaking about it now. But Tyrea offers a certain level of comfort that Melia still occasionally struggles to wrap her mind around. Sometimes, she feels as though she could pour her heart out with all her secrets to Tyrea without any hesitation, without any shame, and Tyrea would never make her feel small for it.

“It is true,” she finally says. “I once believed I had fallen in love with Shulk.”

Why does Tyrea even care, come to think of it?

“However,” Melia continues before Tyrea can interrupt. “I now realize those feelings held no significant weight whatsoever. Shulk was kind toward me in a way no one else had ever been. But, could the same not be said of the others? As I traveled with them, I came to learn that there are many kind people outside of the world I grew up in. I cannot fall in love with every Homs who treats me as a friend. It’s unthinkable.”

“You were a child.”

“I suppose that is an apt way to put it.”

“And what about now? You are the ruling Empress of the High Entia. You could have whoever you want.”

“Hmph. I’ve no intention of upholding the old tradition of taking on consorts.”

If she were ever to be wedded… maybe she would like a ceremony just like Rozeal and Scarlen’s. With less grieving, hopefully, if they’re able to save the Telethia by the time that could possibly come around. But yes— a celebration with Homs and Nopon and Machina in attendance. While Rozeal and Scarlen’s wedding is also meant honor their fallen and lost friends, Melia would like her wedding to be a celebration of unity and peace.

Fiora had managed to drag Reyn into the dancing circle of Nopon. He’s not a very good dancer at all; Shulk is doubled over and laughing hysterically while Fiora tries to show Reyn how to move without accidentally trampling on the Nopon that dart around their feet.

No, she still loves Shulk. But she also loves Fiora and Reyn and Riki and Sharla and Dunban as well. It was a mistaken kind of love, and Melia is content to now understand those feelings.

She… wants to loves Tyrea as well.

But Tyrea is different.

“No consorts? You’re certain about that?”

Melia narrows her eyes. “Why are you so interested in this, all of the sudden? I would not have imagined you would ever inquire about such things.”

“… I only think about the future,” she says. “If what you said about being the last ruler is true, then I suppose you have no obligation to continue the imperial bloodline after all.”

“Ah, I see. You’ve developed a soft spot for children and would like to see more around the palace.”

“I am _not—_ ”

“I jest. But I would rather not think of being wedded right now, much less having children. Rozeal and Scarlen are merely… a reminder.”

“If you think I’m encouraging you to find a husband, I’m not.”

“Good. Because I do not want a husband.”

“Good.”

Did Tyrea just…?

“Sis!” Teelan is jogging over, slightly out of breath. “Come dance with me!”

Tyrea makes a face. Even more guests are dancing now; Melia had lost sight of Fiora, Shulk, and Reyn. Some Nopon had joined the Machina with their own instruments to add to the music, creating a discordant symphony of different sounds that isn’t entirely unpleasant to listen to. “No, thank you. You go enjoy yourself, Teelan. Or have Melia go with you instead.”

“Please? I saw Atael dancing with Cian, and I thought… it’d be fun to dance with you, too! Just for a couple minutes, then I promise I’ll leave you alone. Miss Melia, you should also join in!”

“I’m quite alright,” Melia politely says.

“Sis?” Teelan turns back to Tyrea, smiling hopefully. “Please?”

“… If you’re going to be insistent about it.“

“Alright! C’mon, let’s go!”

“Hold on, you don’t need to pull me—!”

* * *

_I could have whoever I want?_

_But that is not true at all._

* * *

This is, undoubtedly, the first time Melia had ever seen Tyrea so happy.

She’s hardly dancing, but she _is_ tapping a foot in time with the music while Teelan sways and beams up at her, his wings all aflutter. Two other children join them— Cian, and Atael. Tyrea seems only slightly taken aback when Cian reaches for her hands, but she obligingly lifts her up; Cian squeals in delight, and a smile passes across Tyrea’s face.

Melia can’t recall any other time when Tyrea had been so at peace. She’s always stressed about one thing or another, usually concerning the research with the Telethia, never allowing herself the luxury of relaxation. Melia understands. A lifetime spent in the shadows without identity nor purpose is difficult to compensate for. Tyrea is free to do as she pleases, yet all she thinks of is their people and those who had suffered from their tragedy.

Tyrea is _kind_. Not in the way Shulk and Fiora are gentle and sympathetic, no. Her tongue is as sharp as ever and they still get on each others’ nerves here and there. But… she is…

A High Entia woman is speaking to Tyrea now. Oh, it’s Vidian. Melia remembers her, a half-Homs just like herself. The one who mourns for Lesunia.

Vidian offers a hand. An invitation to dance? Tyrea hesitates, then takes it, allowing Vidian to lead her elsewhere.

That tight feeling in her chest returns. Melia forces herself to look away.

* * *

The evening marches past dusk. Moonlight spills across the hall, but the reception is still going as strong as ever. It’s been quite a while since any of them had been able to indulge in such a celebration, while everyone is hard at work with restoring the other parts of the capital. Melia certainly can’t begrudge anyone for staying up past their bedtime. Scarlen and Rozeal haven’t left each others’ sides once since the ceremony.

“Miss Melia? Have you seen where Tyrea went?” Teelan asks.

“I have not.” She doesn’t need to know. Tyrea said it herself; her life is confined to the shadows, skulking about outside of the width of Melia’s radiance. A pang of resentment strikes her, but it’s not directed at Tyrea. Then, what…? Melia clears her throat. “Last I saw, she was following another woman to who knows where. Best not to seek her out and intrude, Teelan. Do you understand?”

“Um… yeah, I think so,” Teelan awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. Oh. He’s young. Melia winces, inwardly, but Teelan seems to sense her discomfort anyway. “Are you alright? It doesn’t look like you’re having fun.”

“Everything is fine,” she lies.

It’s ridiculous, because this is exactly how she felt when she watched Fiora and Shulk smile at each other and hold each others’ hands. Getting over that petty jealousy took longer than she’d admit. This time, it’s different, because she’s _not_ jealous of Tyrea. There’s nothing to be envious about. Fiora is brilliant, empathic and sensitive with all the wisdom of someone who knows what it’s like to love. Tyrea is cold and aloof and hates herself too much to offer any sort of warmth to anyone else.

If anything, it’s exactly as Reyn said; Tyrea was jealous of her. She sees that now.

Then what in blazes is this gut-wrenching feeling?

Teelan is staring at her. “Maybe you should go find her, Miss Melia.”

She spots Vidian rushing by, as if she’s in a hurry to get somewhere. Melia stands up. “Perhaps.”

Tyrea wouldn’t be anywhere around the crowd, she figures. There’s a guard posted by the transporter that leads to the Audience Chamber, whom she exchanges a nod with before stepping in. She doesn’t need to go any further; Tyrea is standing at the edge of the terrace, looking out across Alcamoth and the unnamed sea.

Up here, they can’t hear any of the music and chatter and laughter that echoes in the Great Hall.

“There you are. Vidian seemed upset, so I thought…”

“You thought you’d come nose into my business, did you? Seems only fair, when I had done the same earlier. Go on, then. Ask whatever you’d like.” Tyrea doesn’t turn around, nor does she glance aside as Melia takes her place beside her. Parts of the railing haven’t been repaired yet. That will have to be taken care of later.

“Did you offend her, somehow?”

Tyrea scoffs. “It would be easy to assume so, wouldn’t it?”

“You are not exactly renown for your silver tongue.”

“I said nothing,” she nearly snarls, defensive. “I hardly even did much of the talking. All Vidian did was go on about her deceased friend— Lesunia, Lesunia, Lesunia. Because she said I _reminded_ her of that person. Said I’m just as haughty and severe. And… beautiful, apparently. What am I even supposed to say to that? I said _nothing._ ”

“Ah.”

“Then, she brought up the transformation.” That bitter edge slips out of Tyrea’s voice. Now she only sounds weary. “I mentioned my research with Teelan. It only seemed appropriate. But then she burst into tears without explanation and rushed off.”

“Lesunia was amongst the Telethia I had personally dispatched.” Somewhere around Melfica Road, just outside the very area where Rozeal and Scarlen’s wedding is taking place. Melia remembers it as clear as if it were yesterday. “Vidian made the request herself. She did not want to imagine her friend was suffering, and so… she wished for Lesunia and her mother to be freed.”

Tyrea slowly exhales. “You must have done the same for many others, not only Lesunia.”

_How many Telethia have you killed?_

A different sort of gut-wrenching feeling overwhelms her. Everything is suddenly spinning, and she fears she may topple over the edge if she were to look over the edge of the terrace. “… You were right, Tyrea. I am nothing but an assassin.”

“No, you’re not!” Everything is steady. Tyrea had grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t you dare say that ever again! None of us could have done anything else to ease our people of that pain. What good would it have done to leave the Telethia be, knowing what they were?”

“But if I had allowed Lesunia and the others to live… knowing now that you and Teelan can save the rest…”

“Would you say the same of Yumea?”

Tyrea’s grip tightens. Melia wants to feel indignant or enraged, but there’s nothing. Her stomach is in knots. She takes ahold of Tyrea’s wrists with shaking hands, opening and closing her mouth with no words coming out.

“My mother knew what would become of her mind after transforming. _That_ is why she ordered me to kill her as swiftly as possible. All those other people did not have that luxury.”

“Tyrea…”

“Where is your conviction? Did you hesitate when you saw what Lesunia had become? Or Yumea?”

Her conviction. Yes, she has conviction, bound by her duty as the last Empress of the High Entia. How had she nearly forgotten? She cannot be consumed by her grief for those long gone, like Vidian, unable to let go of seeing traces of her old friend in Tyrea. She cannot regret those fallen Telethia that will never be able to revert back. To do so would be a disservice to the living.

Tyrea’s expression softens. “You saved me, Melia. If I had killed my mother with my own hands… I would have been irreparably destroyed. I couldn’t accept the fact back then, blinded by my grief.”

They’d sat down without Melia even realizing it, their legs dangling over the edge. She feels a slight tickling sensation across her back; one of Tyrea’s wings is stretching out, brushing against her.

Eryth Sea was brilliant at night, illuminated by falling stars and the glow of its many islands. The sea of this new world is inky black. She can hardly even see the Bionis’ shoulder; it’s not much more than a looming misshapen silhouette untouched by the moonlight.

“… What a terrible conversation to have at a wedding,” Melia finally says, breaking the silence.

A soft bark of laughter. “I’d pin the blame on Vidian, for ruining the mood.”

A part of her must ask. The other part of her refuses to. Another unseen part questions why she must even. Melia has no particularly strong feelings about Vidian. She isn’t jealous of Tyrea. So why… do they only make her think of Shulk and Fiora…

She pushes herself closer to Tyrea, desperately willing herself to understand. She’ll be ninety years old soon. Scarlen and Rozeal aren’t much older than her, but they’ve already found their path together. It hurts, thinking about it. It hurts like nothing other. But it must mean something, surely, that Tyrea had been so curious about those feelings long-past, enough to have a whole chat about it. It wasn’t merely because they’re at a wedding, either.

“I love you, Tyrea.”

Because she loves Shulk and Fiora and everyone else. And because she now understands that.

Tyrea looks so, so sad.

“You could have whoever you want, Melia.”

That doesn't even matter. “Do you love me as well?”

Melia wasn’t the assassin, Tyrea was. Putting Telethia out of their misery is a noble thing to do, compared to spilling blood in the name of a crazed God who thought of them as nothing more than food and germs. Melia is well aware of that. Tyrea claimed she had no regrets from her former life, but all her sadness says otherwise.

“… I would never be able to forgive myself if I did.”

“Then allow yourself this one act of mercy. Please.”

Tyrea says nothing, but she takes Melia’s hand and simply holds it, staring out across the inky black sea. A pair of Telethia soar above them, their wings lit brightly against the stars.


End file.
